A Madman in a Coffee Shop
by Bottled.Stardust
Summary: [Coffee Shop AU] "No need for apologies, seeing as we've not even exchanged formalities yet." She stuck out one hand. "I'm Clara Oswald." His smile was back, though slightly less embarrassed this time. "Dr. John Smith," He replied, accepting her hand and shaking it, "Though most of my friends just call me the Doctor."
1. Chapter 1

_Quick little coffee shop AU I wrote up. It's not much (actually, it's probably too long), but it was pretty fun to write._

* * *

Clara lifted the mug of warm coffee to her lips, resting her elbows on the mosaic surface of the little table as she stared out the window. Snow had begun to fall outside. The fat, powdery flakes made the scene outside even prettier as they settled between the cracks of the old cobblestone roads and onto the edge of the sidewalks. Living in an old town was nice, sometimes. The streets looked like something off a postcard, which wasn't so bad. Maybe she'd get out her old camera later and take a few pictures to send to her mates in America. They probably weren't getting something as pretty as this where they were.

Delicately, Clara took a sip of the caramel latte, letting the sweet-smelling steam tickle her nose as she did so. Her fingers were laced around the mug, soaking every last bit of warmth from the ceramic surface. It was that kind of day, really. The Christmas holidays were finally here, and she didn't have to worry about anything until after New Year's. She'd already lost track of what day it was, spending most of her mornings in the coffee shop she was currently at, reading books or talking to friends. This morning, she'd called up everyone—Including Nina, who she really didn't like that much—but they'd all been busy with family. She wasn't in the mood for any of her favorite novels, so she'd just come alone in the hopes of meeting someone new.

Of course, that would be fine if someone new would just _show up_. No one interesting ever came to Leadworth, or if they did, they didn't stay very long. She'd had a friend a long while back—Amelia was her name, she was pretty sure. Amelia Pond. She'd been interesting, definitely. She and Clara had been best friends growing up, until the former got married and left Leadworth. That left the latter alone with nothing but a handful of so-so friends and a bunch of old people down the street. Clara sighed, taking another sip of her coffee. There wasn't even anyone else in the coffee shop at the moment. Well, other than the odd man at the back, but he was always there. She wasn't quite sure what his name was, or if he even _ lived _ in Leadworth. All she knew about him was that he was always sitting at the table by the counter, a coffee at his elbow as he madly scribbled in his notebook.

Today proved to be no different. He was dressed, as usual, in a purple tweed jacket and a rather goofy-looking bow tie. His gaze flickered around the room every few moments as his hand moved across the paper with quick strokes. Clara was curious as to what he was writing, but it seemed like it would be rude to ask, so she never had. Not even after she'd caught him staring at her before, or when she glanced over at the pages while at the counter. It never seemed to be writing, anyways. Just a bunch of messy lines. Usually, Clara wouldn't even consider talking to him, but she was about to go out of her mind with boredom and there couldn't be any harm in it, anyways. Nervously, she set down her mug and stood up. He wasn't paying any attention to her as she crossed the small space towards his table. Silently, she thanked the fact that there was no one behind the counter to see Clara Oswald at her very most awkward, then managed a little, "Hi!" when she was finally standing in front of his table.

Clara thought she'd never seen a man look so startled. His head jerked up to look at her and one of his hands knocked the notebook so hard it went flying. It skittered across the floor a few meters before coming to a stop when one edge hit a chair. Meanwhile, his other hand grabbed the edge of the table, elbow knocking into (and effectively spilling) the coffee he'd had. The mug hit the ground with a crash, sending boiling liquid in all directions. Clara yelped and jumped back as a little splattered her hand.

The man shoved his chair back and stood up. "Oi!" He snapped at her. "What was that for?"

"I'm sorry!" Clara put up her hands in surrender. "I just came over to say hi, since I keep seeing you here but I've never talked to you." Clara was very glad they were the only two in the front of the shop, because this definitely had not gone as planned. "I didn't mean to startle you, honest." Now that she'd done it, she wasn't sure it had been a good idea. He looked a lot more angry than she'd thought he could get, what with the mellow way he always sat in the back corner, keeping to himself.

Immediately, his eyes dropped and he let out a nervous cough, all traces of aggression vanished. "My apologies," He replied quickly. "You shocked me. I'm not often approached by people." He glanced back up at her, a slightly sheepish grin tugging at the corners of his mouth as his eyes met hers.

"Heh…" Clara returned the smile. She could feel a blush creeping up her cheeks. For a few moments, she didn't say anything. Then, realizing the silence had grown a little awkward, she ripped her gaze away, turning it towards his notebook. "Your book's still on the floor," She told him apologetically. "I'll get it."

The change was almost instant. "No!" And suddenly, he had skittered past her, his long legs almost slipping out from under him in his haste to scoop up the leather-bound object before she'd even taken a step. With a bit of flailing, he righted himself and clutched the notebook against his chest with one hand as he straightened his bow tie with the other. He looked as if he weren't quite sure what to say. "Sorry about that," He finally managed. "I don't know what that was about." Too casually, he strode back to the table and set the book, now closed, on its surface.

Clara looked from him to the notebook, her forehead creased in confusion. "All right, then," She blinked. "I'll not try to pick up your things next time."

"No! Sorry!" Instantly, he put his hands out in front of him in a 'stop' motion. "I didn't mean to—not that you should feel obligated to pick my things up, no—I mean—Sorry." He sat down with a sigh. "I'm not as good at this as I used to be."

"Don't apologize." Clara pulled out the chair opposite him at the table and sat down as well. "No need for apologies, seeing as we've not even exchanged formalities yet." She stuck out one hand. "I'm Clara Oswald."

His smile was back, though slightly less embarrassed this time. "Dr. John Smith," He replied, accepting her hand and shaking it, "Though most of my friends just call me the Doctor."

"Really?" Clara drew her hand away, tilting her head to the side in curiosity. "The Doctor?"

"Well, yes, I suppose so," he shrugged. "I've never liked the name John much."

An odd man with such a normal name. _Fancy that,_ Clara thought to herself. "Well then, Doctor, why am I always seeing you in here? I never see you anywhere else in the town. Do you live around here?"

The Doctor shook his head. "No, but I quite like this little coffee shop." He glanced around fondly. "That's why I'm always here." As he spoke, his fingers drummed lightly on the black leather surface of the notebook.

Clara nodded at it. "So… You're an author, then?" She asked.

"What?" The Doctor raised his eyebrows. "What would make you say that?"

"The notebook? Clara reached across the table and nudged it with one finger. "You look like one of those crazed authors in movies, the way you scribble in that thing."

"Oh." At that, the Doctor pulled the notebook back towards himself. "No, not an author. Not much of any writing in here."

"Really? What is, then?" Clara rested her elbows on the tabletop, dropping her chin in her hands as she spoke and glancing at him curiously.

"Nothing much." The Doctor fiddled with one corner of the cover. "Nothing important, either."

"…Right." Well, he clearly didn't want to tell Clara, and she was fine with that. "So. What's with the bowtie?" She nodded towards it. "They're not really in style right now."

"They're always in style," He replied, reaching up to adjust it again. "Bowties are cool."

Clara giggled. "Whatever you say, Doctor."

"Well, why do you wear…. That?" He gestured to her whole outfit the same way she'd gestured to his bowtie.

Clara raised an eyebrow. "Because I like to be clothed in public."

"Oi! That's not what I—I mean, I didn't—" The Doctor fumbled over his words, finally giving up and reaching towards one side of the table, before seeming to remember that the coffee was now on the floor.

"Oh. Sorry about the coffee. I'll get some new ones." Ignoring his protest that she didn't need to buy him a new coffee, Clara pushed her chair back and pulled herself to her feet. A young woman had come out from the back room, presumably while Clara had been becoming acquainted with the Doctor. She smiled when Clara came over.

"What can I get you, love?" she asked, then continuing her work scrubbing something off the countertop with a rag.

"Uh…" Clara glanced over at her new friend, not sure what he wanted. "I'll have two of whatever he usually gets," She finally replied.

"Ah." The woman nodded. Clara bounced on the soles of her feet, watching as she bustled around making the coffees. When the employee set the cups down on the counter and began to ring the price up, she surprised Clara by saying, "You know, I've been waiting for you two to finally go talk to each other." And then flashing a small smile.

Clara was at a loss for words. "You—you have?" She asked, glancing from the woman to the Doctor.

"Sure." She shrugged. "The two of you are always here at the same time, have been for months. Always sitting on opposite sides of the shop, never talking to each other but always stealing glances." She glanced up at Clara and winked. "Well, he's stealing a lot more than you are."

"Really, then?" Clara picked up the coffees. "I definitely didn't notice that."

"He's very careful about it. It's pretty clear that he likes you, though."

"I don't think so. He was probably just curious about me, since we see each other here a lot."

"Nah, I'd say it's more than curiousity." The woman chuckled.

"Why so?" Clara raised an eyebrow.

"Well, his table's right by the counter, down at the end. I can see him when he's working in his notebook."

"And?"

"He's always drawing you."

"Me?" Clara's eyes widened momentarily before she glanced over at him. Unable to hear the conversation from where he was, he smiled and waved at her. She smiled back, then turned to the woman. "Are you sure?"

"Yeah." She nodded. "It's definitely you. I don't think he's trying to be creepy, though. He seems genuinely interested in you."

"Oh." A small smile touched Clara's lips. "Well, then." She nodded thanks at the woman and started back towards the table. _I guess that changes things a bit._


	2. Chapter 2

Her cell phone rang at 5:30 AM.

Clara groaned and rolled over, her sleep-heavy eyes focusing on the little device on her bedside table. It was blaring like an alarm clock, and she was tempted to treat it like one—but she suspected her phone couldn't hold up to being thrown against a wall like the clock could. Who would call her so early in the morning? She shoved herself up into a sitting position and made herself pick up the phone. Against her better judgment, she grumbled, "I hope you've got a good reason for calling me this early in the morning or I'm going to personally come to your house and punch you in the face."

"Morning to you, too!" It was the Doctor's voice, rather cheerful despite her threat.

Clara covered up a groan. Okay, so giving him her number at the coffee shop had seemed like a good idea at the time, but she was really wishing she hadn't now. "Doctor?" She asked, even though she knew it was him.

"Of course! How are you doing?" He still sounded very happy, and it was making Clara rapidly more irritated with him.

"Tired. Doctor, why the hell did you call me? It's not even six AM yet." Clara sighed and leaned back against the headboard, running her free hand through her disheveled brown hair.

"I have a surprise for you!" The Doctor sang from his end. "Be outside in five minutes!" The line went dead.

Clara swore under her breath and shoved the comforters off her legs as she set her phone down. Among the list of things she was currently regretting was giving him her address. She hadn't even thought twice about it—the first day they'd talked (how two weeks had passed so quickly since their meeting, she'd never understand), they'd ended up going for lunch and then spending the rest of the day engrossed in deep conversation about… well, everything. He'd driven her home late that night, after many hours of talking. They had the same tastes in books, movies, restaurants and whatever else they'd come up with to discuss. Clara had to confess that it was nice to have a friend like that, even if he had some definite oddities about him that she'd never had to deal with before. Like the fact that he called her at 5:30 AM, apparently.

Sighing, she swung her legs off the edge of the bed and stood up, muttering to herself as she grabbed a hairbrush off the dresser and began to tug it through her hair. Looked like she wouldn't have time to straighten it, or do much else other than throw on some clothes and run downstairs, considering it was already 5:33. She had two minutes.

Clara tugged on a pair of jeans and a gray-and-white striped sweater, pulled her wavy hair back into a ponytail and slipped on a pair of boots. Before she left her room, she forced herself to glance in the mirror—all right, she didn't look _too_ bad, but it would have been nice if she'd at least been able to get her hair better under control. With a sigh, still wishing she wasn't awake this early, she headed down the narrow stairway and into the tiny kitchen just as there was a knock on the door.

"Morning, Doctor," She greeted him when she pulled the door open. He was, of course, standing there on her front step like he'd been awake for hours and like it wasn't a ridiculous hour to be out, even though…well, it was. The sky was still velvety blue, though laced with a few dark clouds. Everything on the ground was covered by a soft layer of snow, including the Doctor's hair. Clara gently rose up on her tiptoes to brush it off, her irritation at him melting like the snowflakes under her fingertips. She really couldn't stay angry at him, even when he pulled stunts like this one.

He gave her an excited grin. "Morning, Clara! Are you ready for the surprise?"

She managed a half-hearted grin in response and flashed him two hesitant thumbs up. "Never readier," She replied.

"Brilliant!" The Doctor stepped aside, gesturing to his car. "Shall we be off, then?"

Clara rolled her eyes and stepped out of her kitchen, out onto the snow-blanketed front step. The door creaked as she closed it behind her and locked it.

The Doctor really did have a funny car. He said a friend had given it to him a while back, as a sort of gift. It was old, certainly, and not glossy like all the new cars were. The paint was cracked, peeling, and dull, but it was a marvelous shade of blue that even Clara had to admit loving right away. The Doctor always referred to it as 'she' and said her name was the TARDIS—a name his four-year-old niece had invented after mishearing something he'd said about it.

As usual, the passenger door refused to open for Clara when she first tried. And, as usual, the Doctor came up behind her and rattled the handle just so, making the door pop open easily. "It's all in the touch," He assured her. "You'll manage it one day."

"I still think it doesn't like me," Clara grumbled as she climbed in and swung the heavy door shut.

"She's just warming up to you," The Doctor insisted as he walked around to the other side and climbed in. "You'll manage eventually."

"Just as soon as you stop pretending your car's alive," Clara muttered under her breath.

"What?"

"Nothing, just talking to myself." Clara fastened the seatbelt, then leaned back against the old seat and looked over at the Doctor. "So where is it that we're going in the middle of the night?"

"It's 5:36 AM," He corrected her. "And I can't tell you where we're going."

"Why not?" Clara asked, crossing her arms. "I let you pick me up at hell in the morning, so why won't you at least tell me what I'm sacrificing my sleep to see?"

He shot her a glance and raised his eyebrows (or forehead? Clara had noticed that the Doctor had, for some reason, a strange lack of eyebrows. Fortunately for him, it fitted his appearance all right). "Because it's a surprise!" He reminded her. "And the point of surprises is to not know what they are until you get there!"

It soon became apparent that, no matter how good he was at driving during the day—even though that, too, was limited—the Doctor practically couldn't drive when it was dark out. They hadn't had this problem the very first night of their meeting, probably because the Doctor was trying to be careful then, but now they were almost swerving over the entire road as they drove down the street. Several times, he almost hit something on the edge of the sidewalk. Once or twice, he did, and it added to the countless nicks and scrapes on the hood of the car. They continued driving for some while, the Doctor gradually losing interest in his surroundings and actually beginning to focus on the road in front of them. Eventually, they left the town completely and set out through more hilly, snow-laden terrain. The snow still fell in thick swirls around the car, getting heavier as they kept on. Clara and the Doctor talked as he drove—not about much in particular, just whatever happened to occur to one and be worthy of saying out loud. Clara continued trying to sneak some hint about their destination out of her friend, but he was much more quick-witted than she gave him credit for.

Finally, he stopped the conversation with an abrupt, "We're here." Before tugging at the wheel and sending them flying off the road and onto the grass, where they stopped so quickly that Clara's seatbelt locked.

Clara shoved the door open and climbed out into the snow, wrapping her arms around herself to stay warm. They were parked (parked being a relative term in this case) at the base of a large, tree-capped hill.

The Doctor appeared from around his side and offered her his hand. "Shall we, then?"


End file.
